


Big Scary Bots With Tiny Orange Boyfriends

by MoyaKite



Series: Factionless AU [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoyaKite/pseuds/MoyaKite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another reality, there was never a war, but the Lost Light still set off on an adventure. An ex-mafia member brings his cojunx along to keep him safe.</p><p>Grimlock and Fixit are just there to party.</p><p> </p><p>(some side pairings are mentioned but don't get any air time--Chromedome/Rewind, Tailgate/Cyclonus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight, Fight, F--what?

**Author's Note:**

> This work is cobbled together from a series of requests over on my Tumblr. (I'm moyaofthemist over there.) They were technically supposed to be ~3 sentences long each, but they ended up...not being that short. Upon request, I'm posting them to AO3.

Whirl and Grimlock sized each other up. Grimlock had the size advantage, but Whirl had his gun-tits.

Behind the bar, Swerve teeked of panic. ”Hey, uh, what can I do you for?”

"I want some of the bubbly red stuff for my _boyfriend_ ,” Grimlock said, baring his teeth.

"Well,  _I_  want a fizzy orange drink for my _bondmate_ ,” Whirl cut in.

"Uh. I can do that." Swerve looked over at the corner, where a minicon even smaller than himself sat beside a relatively small mech. They seemed to be engrossed in conversation. "Should I bring it over to your table?" he asked, hoping to get them away from the fragile bottles of high-grade at the bar. "And can I get you two anything?"

"I’ll have the bubbly purple stuff," Whirl said, not taking his optic off the dinobot.

"Well  _I’ll_  have what my boyfriend is having so I can share.”

"Oh, you think I’m not gonna share?"

"I’ll bring those right over," Swerve said, shooing them away. They growled and flexed at each other all the way over to the table.

Rung narrowed his optics. “Whirl, what are you doing?”

"Nothing, babe." He threw an arm around Rung’s shoulders and nuzzled the side of his head. "How’s the ship treating you? You comfortable?"

"Very," Rung said. "It was most generous of Ratchet to invite us aboard after treating me."

Whirl flinched, but nobody other than Rung could have detected it. “Sure was.”

"Grim-Grim-Grimlock," Fixit said. "Why were you growling at Rung’s conjunx endura?"

"Because somebody said that Rung was the best tiny orange bot on the ship, and I  _know_  it was him who said it.” Grimlock pouted. “And  _you’re_ the best tiny orange bot on the ship.”

"Quite a distinction," Rung said mildly. "Whirl, is that why you were posturing?"

"Well, he’s going around saying his boyfriend’s better’n my junxy! That’s scrap, is what that is."

"Mmhmm." Rung scanned the crowd. "And who told you this?"

"Uh. Didn’t get his designation."

His optics fell on a table crowded with mechs—all of whom looked away as soon as hiis gaze fell on them. “Over there, I presume?”

"Yeah," Grimlock said. "That one—he’s the one who told me."

Fixit huffed. “ _That_  one? He’s been muttering, ‘tiny orange bot cage match’ for the last joor.” When the others looked at him, he shrugged. “I don’t even come up to his knee, so I’m basically insist—invinci—invisible.”

Rung patted Whirl’s arm. “They were hoping you’d spread the rumor to us and get us to start fighting.”

Rage flared in Whirl’s field. “Rude!”

"I think we should give them something to talk about," Fixit said, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Grimlock, pick me up."

Grimlock obliged, though confusion was written all over his face. “Do you wanna get a better look at—” Fixit planted a big smooch right on his nose, and a dazed grin spread across his face. “Aww.”

Not to be outdone, Whirl snuggled up more with Rung, revving his engine, and Rung shook his head before kissing his audial and playing along.

The bots on the other side of the room stared, stunned. Sure, they had hoped for a tiny orange bot showdown—they just hadn’t expected it to take the form of a PDA competition.


	2. Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand tour of the Lost Light. Well, not so grand.

Rung smiled down at the minicon rolling by his side. “Well, you’ve already been to Swerve’s,” he said. “There’s an observation deck, as well. Mostly there are hab-suites, though.”

Fixit nodded up at him. “Is there anywhere we might procure more pillows?”

"Pillows?" Rung repeated. Cybertronians generally only used them as a luxury, since the mesh had to be imported from other planets. 

"Yes." Fixit nodded firmly. "Grimlock and I brought ours, but the berth is too small, so Grimlock wants to nice—miss—nest."

"Nest?" Whirl did the repeating this time. He turned to look up at the mech. "Whaddya mean,  _nest_?”

"Well, like I said, the berth is too small," Fixit said. "We can’t fit! So we need to move the recharge slabs aside and nest so we can cuddle properly."

Rung raised a hand to his mouth. That was—that was  _far_  too cute. 

Possibly teeking his field, Whirl’s focus snapped to Rung. “Maybe we should get some pillows ourselves,” he said. “We’re stoppin’ at an organic planet next, right? Bet they’ll have some.”

Grimlock grinned. “We’re gonna get some pill-ows!” he sang, scooping Fixit right up off the ground and swinging him in a gentle dance. “Weee’re gonna get some piiiiill-ows!”

He danced away down the hall with his boyfriend, and Rung came to a stop to watch them, leaning back to rest his helm on Whirl. “I didn’t know you wanted to nest.”

"Well, I’m not a big honkin’ dinobot, but you get cold so damn easy." He vented in a mockery of a put-upon sigh. "And the minibots were talkin’ about makin’ a pillow fort. I bet Swerve would trade some high-grade to borrow them for a few hours."

Rung laughed. “Always two steps ahead.”

Grimlock swung Fixit right around the corner, and Whirl shook his head. “Mags is gonna have my helm if that little guy gets hurt. C’mon, babe.”

Ultra Magnus had said nothing of the sort, but Rung smiled to himself as he wrapped his arm around Whirl’s hips, affection blooming in his spark. 


	3. Karaoke Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The minibots are big fans of Fixit.

Swerve had loaned out the karaoke system and the private use of the bar for a few hours to Grimlock, Fixit, Rung, and Whirl in exchange for _literally_  three hundred pillows. And the promise that he and his boyfriends could watch the singing.

Upon hearing that Fixit would be singing, Tailgate had demanded that Ultra Magnus step out of the suit for the night, ‘in solidarity,’ and Swerve thought Minimus had gone along with it just because he’d been impressed by the fancy vocabulary. Not that he was complaining! He planted a big kiss on one side of Minimus’s mustache and sighed with contentment.

"Cyclonus didn’t mind missing out on the singing?" Swerve asked.

"Whirl," Tailgate answered simply.

"And Domey gets that it’s a minibot party tonight." Rewind said, snuggling up against Minimus. "It’s been on the schedule for like a week. Don’t stress."

Minimus nodded with approval at the mention of the schedule; he was their official calendar-keeper. With the four minibots as a quad and Tailgate and Rewind having separate partners, it was a dire necessity.

"Need any help setting up?" Swerve called. Grimlock seemed to be struggling with a dj table—which really wasn’t meant for karaoke, but the nest of pillows was mega comfy, and Swerve didn’t really care that much about it. If he broke it, Fixit would make him buy a new one—or he’d, haha, _fix it_.

Swerve cracked himself up.

"Nah, I got it," Grimlock said, offering him a wide, crooked grin. Fixit rolled nervously around his feet, apparently unafraid of being squashed.

"Rewind, I know you think every minibot has a thing for big bots," Swerve said, "but Fixit could _literally_  fit behind those teeth.”

"He’s kinda extreme." Rewind sounded impressed. "I’d pay good shanix to see how they—"

"Please." Minimus held up a hand.

"Right, right, rule 37." Rewind waved a hand dismissively, and Tailgate rolled down the pillow hill to lie on top of him.

_Rule 37: Don’t discuss interfacing with Minimus outside of private quarters._

Whirl tapped an impatient pede up on the stage. “So who’s singing first?”

"You and Ru-Ru-Rung can go first!" Fixit beamed. "We still need to se-se-se-se-set up."

"Okay, hit it!" Whirl said, punching a claw in the air and wrapping the other arm around Rung’s shoulders, cocking his hips at a jaunty angle. "My junxy and I are gonna be singin’ a duet!" Whirl named the song, and Swerve cycled his optics. It was about the sappiest love ballad he had the music to. "Let’s hear it for me and Rung! Wooo~!"

Swerve and the others cheered and applauded as the music started up.

It was  _disgustingly cute_. Swerve hoped to higher powers he didn’t believe in that Rewind was recording it. Whirl’s voice was fragging terrible, but Rung sang sweetly, and Whirl was  _all over_ Rung on the stage—draped over his shoulders, twirling him around to dance, pressing his helm to Rung’s forehead—he was schmoopier than Swerve had even believed possible. Even the enthusiastic way his voice creaked on the low notes was almost endearing.

When the song ended, everyone whooped with appreciation, and Whirl dropped the mic to flutter his claws in Rung’s direction, as if to say, ‘ _Look at this gorgeous piece of work. You know you’re jealous_.’

"Great job!" Fixit said, clapping with a mic in one hand. "I’ll-I’ll be singing, and Grimlock’s going to back me up."

Swerve and the others exchanged a confused look and missed their chance to clap before the music started. Swerve recognized the opening bars—they’d all heard the song when they passed within radio range of the planet Earth. Two humans who pretended to by robotic.

"It might not be the right—right—right—"

Swerve gaped as Grimlock mixed the music to match Fixit’s stutter.

"—right—right time!"

Swerve broke into spontaneous applause before Rewind smacked his hands to shush him. Fixit had a  _killer_  singing voice. Warming to the song, Fixit started bobbing his head and rolled circles around Grimlock.

It was the goofy smile on Grimlock’s face that slew Swerve, though, especially when Fixit sang, “I love—love—love—love you more than anyone in my life.”

The cheers when Fixit bowed at the end were noticeably more enthusiastic than they’d been for Rung and Whirl. Swerve tried to dial back the volume when he realized this, but Whirl’s optic had already narrowed to a slit.

"We’re  _also_  singing an Earth song next!” Whirl said, scrambling for the mic. “Right, Rung?”

And suddenly it was  _on_. The songs got schmoopier. The dance moves got more elaborate and romantic and ridiculous. The singing got—well, mostly louder.

Three joors later, all four of them—even Grimlock—had sung themselves hoarse, and poor Rung was coughing static. Swerve could see the exact moment that Whirl realized Rung had pushed himself too hard—he dropped his own mic and rushed to Rung’s side to fuss. The music kept playing without them as Whirl started hauling Rung out the door; without the mic, Swerve could only make out the word  _Ratchet_.

After he hauled Rung out of the bar and the music came to a halt, Fixit and Grimlock looked at each other up on the stage. After a moment, they grinned.

"Victory!"


	4. Dance Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, they had to salvage their dignity after the singing loss!

Whirl strutted into Swerve’s with Rung at his side, snapping his claws. Like, not menacingly—literally snapping them the way another bot might snap their fingers. 

What was stranger was that Rung—who had a very patient smile on—was also snapping.

"Heeey, dinobutt," Whirl called. "You, me, and our junxies. Dance off.  _Now_.”


End file.
